The Songbird Sisters

by Rachael Herron

  “Stop it. I haven’t been the little one in a long time.”

  “How long?” Adele’s eyes were stark. “When did it happen?”

  Lana cracked, and the truth spilled out. “The night Daddy died.”

  “No.” Adele was crying now, silently except for the sucking sound when she inhaled. “Lana.”

  “You want to know? You really want to know?” She wanted to punish Adele. Both of her sisters. For not knowing. Not seeing. The feeling was so familiar that she realized she’d felt this way for a very long time.

  “Yes,” her sisters said in unison. Molly reached to take Lana’s hand, but she jerked it away.

  She didn’t need consoling. Not anymore. “I went out that night, after we fought. I got really fucked up. I was assaulted.” It was rape. Taft’s words.

  “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  Now she would be blamed for doing it wrong. That was just perfect. “Because I knew you wouldn’t believe it wasn’t my fault.”

  “But it wasn’t. Jesus, Lana, whatever happened, it wasn’t your fault.”

  That’s not what Lana had thought for years. That’s not what her sisters would have thought, had they known. Especially Adele. She would have said, You shouldn’t have been there. You shouldn’t have had those tequila shots. You shouldn’t have gone outside with him.

  “Yeah, well, I handled it.”

  “By yourself.” One huge tear wound its way down Adele’s cheek. “You dealt with it by yourself.”

  Just like everything else. But Lana didn’t say it. It seemed too cruel, somehow. Lana let her head fall back, and she searched the night sky for anything she could possibly say in response. A bat, black against the white fog, flapped and gave a shrill screech. What Lana wouldn’t give for arms that folded into wings, so she could fly up, fly away as fast as she could go. “Yeah. I guess.”

  Molly folded her arms over her chest. Tears shone in her eyes, too.

  Lana was suddenly over all of it. “I don’t want to do this with you.”

  Adele wrapped her fingers around the edge of the table. “I just can’t get my head around the fact that the moment you needed me most was the exact moment I pushed you away the hardest.”

  “Yeah, I got used to the idea a long time ago.” It was a jerk response, and Adele’s lips got thinner and sadder, instantly.

  Sisters. They always knew exactly which button to push. And Lana had always been the master at pushing Adele’s.

  “But it’s okay. It’s fine.”

  Adele shook her head. Molly exclaimed, “No!” and then went silent again.

  “You see?” Lana took a carelessly huge swallow of wine, feeling the acidic burn match the heat in her throat. “This is why I never wanted to tell you.”

  Adele rubbed at her eyes. “Why not?”

  “Because then I turn into the one who has to comfort you. Now I have to tell you that you did nothing wrong, but honestly? You did.”

  Adele’s expression got more miserable. Deep down inside, buried underneath everything that was good in her, Lana felt a little spark of satisfaction. There was a small, dark place in her heart that was enjoying the way Adele and Molly looked almost ready to pass out in concern.

  This was what Lana had always wanted, in her secret heart of hearts.

  It was agony.

  And it was the tiniest bit – unforgivably – pleasurable.

  “I know.” Adele’s voice was a rasp. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I was wrong, so wrong. I knew that the way you reacted was more than –”

  “I was more out of control than I should have been? After suddenly becoming an orphan and being pretty sure I was going to lose my band, and my sisters, too? Huh. You’re right, I was totally out of line. I should have told you about being –” her voice choked shut before she could say the word.

  Adele said it for her. “Raped.”

  Lana coughed. “I haven’t told you one thing about what happened.”

  “Did you say no?”

  “No.” That was the whole fucking problem. She’d whispered it, maybe. She’d thought it, she knew. She’d wanted to scream it. But she hadn’t.

  Adele shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. If you were that drunk, you were beyond being able to give any kind of consent.”

  How did Adele even know? “Did Taft tell you everything?” How could he? How had he betrayed her like that?

  “He didn’t tell me any details. You did. In your song.”

  Lana covered her eyes with her hands, relishing their coolness. “Not autobiographical.”

  “Not all songs, no. But I’ve known since I heard the song that the woman behind it was telling the truth.”

  Something struck Lana as she dropped her hands. “What if I’d told you then?”

  “I wish you had. God, Lana, I wish to hell you had.”

  “Seriously, what if I’d told you then? Dad had just died. We’d just lost the tour. We all knew the band was going under. If I’d told you I’d been assaulted –”

  “Raped.”

  The word was a knife to Lana’s throat. “Okay, if I’d told you that I got too drunk and a guy had sex with me because he said I’d wanted it. Which I probably did. You would have defended me?”

  “Yes.” Adele looked as if she could fight a lion barehanded.

  “Really?”

  “Yes.” But her yes was softer.

  “Think about it. I’d already passed out on stage from the pills. You were furious with me. You think you wouldn’t have blamed me? Even a little bit?” Lana knew she would have been accused of being the one who’d asked for it.

  Her anger about that had been what had kept her apart from Adele for so long.

  The knowing that she was right.

  “I wouldn’t have …”

  “Bullshit.” Molly’s tone was clear, bell-like. “That’s bullshit, Adele. We both would have blamed her. You know we would have.”

  “No –”

  “The reason ‘Blame Me’ has blown up is because people are talking about consent now. They’re talking about it on college campuses and on public radio stations and in magazines. We didn’t even have that language back then. All we knew was that Lana got out of control and we didn’t like it.”

  Lana had to point out, “You minded it less than she did, Molly.”

  Adele winced.

  Molly shook her head. “Well, then, I’m the one who should have noticed. We were close. I should have figured it out. I should have asked you what was wrong.”

  “You did ask me, remember? Everything was wrong then. That was practically the least of it.” It wasn’t true. It hadn’t been as bad as her father dying, but it had been worse than almost anything else.

  Adele wrapped her arms around her waist, around the baby still too small to really even push out her shirts. Lana knew Adele would do anything to protect that child once it came into the world. She would have done anything to protect Lana, too.

  “I know you love me,” said Lana.

  Adele nodded miserably. “So much.”

  “I know. It’s not your fault. None of this is. But I wish you’d seen past the walls I put up.”

  Adele shook her head. “Every single piece of this is my fault. I’m the one who made us go on stage that night. I’m the one who pushed so hard you broke and ran and got high and drunk and –”

  “Can you give me some credit, please?”

  “What?”

  “Jesus, Adele. The whole world doesn’t revolve around you.”

  Adele looked wounded, and her voice was quiet. “I know that.”

  “Maybe you do now. But you didn’t know then. I would have had to make you feel better about that, too. I’ve always regretted not telling you both, but I’m changing my mind. I wish you’d never found out.” Lana stood. “I’m going to bed.”

  Molly reached out a hand. “Wait. Please talk some more with us. Don’t go, don’t run away.”

  “Why not?” Lana locked her fingers around her
elbows. “It’s the only thing I’m good at.”

  “Please just don’t leave town,” said Adele in a tone fiercer than fire. “Please stay.”

  Lana wasn’t going anywhere. Honestly, there was no other place for her to go.

  But she didn’t need to reassure either of them right now.

  Darling girls were shit at reassurance, it turned out.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Sunday morning was busy on Main Street in Darling Bay. Taft watched people stream into the double doors of the Baptist church. They waved at the Catholic churchgoers coming out of ten-o’clock mass next door. Kids ran in and out of the bagel shop, and the Golden Spike’s parking lot had been converted to a rummage sale, fundraising for the high school track team.

  In his car, Taft pressed “play” again.

  There they were, on his phone’s screen, singing together. He’d watched it a dozen times already, of course.

  But this time he was watching it on YouTube.

  Sully had leaked it.

  Taft could tell by the account name – Sully had a burner account named ProSongs32 that he sometimes used to test the waters for up-and-coming talent.

  Nothing on that account had ever blown up like this one had.

  In just the last day, there were four hundred thousand views. Every time Taft hit Refresh, there were several hundred more views.

  He prayed to God Lana would like it. That it wouldn’t make her angrier.

  Lana.

  She’d finally texted him back about meeting him in the bar. No.

  Yeah, she’d talked to her sister.

  She probably wanted to kill him already – he sure as hell didn’t want her finding out about the YouTube video from anyone but him.

  He strode into the Golden Spike Café and flagged down Nikki. “Have you seen Lana this morning?”

  Nikki pointed west. “She came in for coffee. I tried to get her to take a muffin, but she said she was going to take her new dog to the beach and do some yoga.”

  Just the words set his brain on fire. He imagined Lana stretching, wearing something tight and made of spandex, bending and folding on the sand as the waves pounded the shore behind her. “Thanks.”

  Seven minutes later, he was at the shore. Lana wasn’t visible on the beach before the bay’s curve, so he trucked on foot over the dunes, hoping like hell he’d have reception out here so he could show her the updated view count.

  There.

  By herself, at the edge of the water, Lana was doing yoga.

  Sadly, no spandex, though. She was wearing a huge traffic-orange shirt that disguised her body and hung almost to her knees. Under it she wore a pair of black sweatpants so baggy he marveled that she didn’t fall right out of them as she bent into downward dog, the only pose he remembered from dating Minna, the yoga fanatic. Even disguised as Lana was, she looked hot as hell. Her hair stuck straight out from her head. Her yoga moves, instead of being fluid and gentle, like the yoga he’d seen Minna do, were angry and rushed. Her back still to him, she stood and raised one foot, placing it on her opposite thigh. Stork-like, she wobbled and raised her arms. She fell sideways, catching herself with a string of curses that had probably been uttered verbatim by the captain of the last shipwreck off the coast.

  He laughed. He couldn’t help it.

  Emily Dickinson, who’d been nose-down in a pile of kelp, looked up and barked sharply.

  Lana spun around. “What? You think it’s funny?”

  Anger poured off her body as if she’d swum in a sea of it.

  “Just admiring your ability to cuss.”

  “Better than that fucking namaste shit.”

  He folded his hands in prayer and gave a short bow. “I honor the pirate spirit within you.”

  She cocked a hip. She hadn’t been using a yoga mat, and there was wet sand all over her. What didn’t look good on this woman?

  “What do you want? Other than to apologize, which I assume you’re going to do, and which I’m going to reject, so we can just skip it.”

  “Lana, your sisters had to know.”

  “You didn’t have the right.”

  “I know that. I knew it when I said it, and I did it anyway.” He spoke as earnestly as he possibly could. He meant this. “If I had to do it over, I wouldn’t. It was so stupid. I feel terrible about it.”

  “I can’t – no one but my friend Jilly knew. And she only knew because she heard me working on the song when I was staying with her. You were the only one I trusted enough to tell.” Lana glared, and her face was fierce in her rage, every single bit of it directed right at him.

  Man, he was an idiot. It would have come out – he was sure of it. Too many people did know, everyone in accounting at the label, the people who sent the money into her business account.

  But he’d been the one to tell her sister, and for that he was deeply regretful.

  “I want to show you something.” He held up his cell phone and took a few more paces forward, until Emily Dickinson blocked his way, yapping her fool head off. Her bark was excruciating, at just the right pitch to make his ears feel like they were bleeding. “You want to call off the guard?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not in a very chatty mood. Maybe later.” Her tone said maybe never. She snapped her fingers for the dog. Emily Dickinson ignored her entirely and kept rolling in the kelp.

  “Lana, I’m sorry. I really am.”

  “That doesn’t change the fact that you did it.” She tromped away. Some of her emphasis was lost because the sand didn’t lend itself to stomping, but Taft got the message.

  Shit. Taft had screwed up so far beyond big time.

  She turned her head, whistling for the dog, who finally came running. Emily Dickinson shot a weak growl in Taft’s direction and then ran ahead, snapping at the waves.

  For racing through sand, Lana was sure accelerating. Taft’s breath speeded as he tried to keep up with her. “Lana. Stop.”

  She turned around, and she sure as hell stopped. As soon as she did, he regretted his words. “You’re giving me orders now?”

  “No,” he said. “Just … just hold up a minute. Let me apologize completely.” Her lips were bright red, maybe from the wind. For a second, he imagined kissing her. He could apologize very thoroughly if she’d let him.

  Lana blew out a breath. “What are you looking at? You don’t get it. You don’t get to apologize for spilling the beans on my biggest secret. That’s not something I could possibly just let go, just because you weren’t thinking.”

  Taft had been thinking. He just hadn’t known to keep his lips zipped. “I get it. I’m sorry. I’ll say that as many times as you want me to. But I have to point out – isn’t family exactly who should have helped you through that time in your life?”

  “You? You’re the one saying this to me?”

  “What?” Ahead of them, Emily Dickinson chased a sandpiper that looked like it was taunting her, flying a few feet every time the dog got close, setting down again just out of reach.

  “I don’t think you’re the one who should really lecture me on family.”

  He felt a jolt, like he’d just bumped another car with his own. “Hey, now.”

  Lana tilted her head to the side and her eyes narrowed. “Family. What a bitch, am I right? It’s just the luck of the draw, I guess. You got a famous dad – who wasn’t your dad. Was it mere luck, then, that you wrote such good songs back in the day?”

  “I don’t know.” It hurt to think about it. Again.

  “Just because your family helped you out in every single way imaginable doesn’t mean the rest of the world wants or expects the same thing. I got where I am on my own two feet. By myself. No help.”

  He took a breath. “Look, Nikki said you were out here. I just had something to show you.”

  “So you didn’t even come out here to grovel? You came to find me for a different reason?”

  For a million reasons, number one being that he couldn’t stop t
hinking about her, about the way she’d moved in his arms, the sound she’d made when she’d come the first time, and the second time, and the third … His number-two reason was the video on his phone. “Just look at it.” He held it toward her and prayed for a good signal. Maybe the video would buy him a slim scrap of forgiveness.

  Still with the scowl on her face, Lana got nearer to him. Emily Dickinson seemed to feel that her presence was needed and came to stand at Lana’s ankle. She growled softly – almost cheerfully – as if it was a little dog song she was making up as she went along.

  That wasn’t the song Taft wanted to hear. He pushed Play.

  The music tumbled out, tinny and quiet. Taft raised the volume. The sound became fuller, even out there on the beach with the roar of the surf and wind behind them. The two of them were small on the screen, but the way they were looking at each other was visible even in low resolution. It was a love song, all right.

  “You said you were sending our song to your manager. So?”

  Their song. It sounded good. “Look closer.”

  She did, somehow managing to still stay two feet away from him. The wind blew her scent to him, light and sweet, as heady as a hundred-proof bourbon.

  “It’s on YouTube. Why is it there?” Lana leaned a little closer. “What is that number?”

  He laughed, excitement flooding his bloodstream. “That’s what I came to show you.”

  “Does that say almost half a million? Views? Is that views?”

  “It’s gone viral. Overnight. Sully texted me while I was walking down here that I have more than twenty press requests on it. Your agent’s probably getting the –” She shot him a look, and he remembered her agent had fired her.

  “We recorded it yesterday,” she said.

  “I know.”

  “It’s impossible.”

  “Not anymore it isn’t. It’s kind of great, right?” She had to admit it.

  “No. It isn’t.” She walked away without watching any more.

  “Lana.” He jogged to catch up and caught her elbow.

  She jerked away with a hiss, rubbing at her arm like he’d burned her. “What is wrong with you?”

  “Me? I thought you’d like this.” It was amazing. Couldn’t she see that?